


The Boy Who Triumphed

by Gryff_inTheGame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Death, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Confessions, Redemption, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryff_inTheGame/pseuds/Gryff_inTheGame
Summary: The Longbottoms disgraced the Order by divulging its precious secrets to Death Eaters in exchange for their santy. In wake of their excruciating torture, Neville’s Hogwarts experience is tainted by his parents misgivings. Deeply shamed, he struggles to “find himself’ in the Wizarding World; that is, until a young lady captures his heart and gives him the confidence he needs to believe in himself. Oh, the fire one can spit with a little self-belief!





	The Boy Who Triumphed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandraSempra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraSempra/gifts), [MidnightChardonnay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightChardonnay/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [CanonFixFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CanonFixFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> The Longbottom's were tortured, but not to the point of complete insanity. When the instability of his home life hinders his overall Hogwarts experience, will he find the newfound confidence to defeat Nagini in the end?
> 
> DreamingOfStars85! You deserve all the appreciation in the world for the extra grammar + beta love. Thank you so much!!! X
> 
> JK Rowling owns. The plot is mine. The prompt belongs to Sandra-Sempra! Thanks for the prompt, dear!
> 
> The quote below belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, and I have used it in this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> “It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.”

 

  


* * *

 

_“_ **_Crucio!_ ** _” muttered Bellatrix through evil cackles. Alice Longbottom quivered in pain as the violent energy of the curse flowed through her. Every ounce of her body was on fire._

_“_ **_Crucio!_ ** _”_

_The young Auror’s mind began to blur as waves of Bella’s rage flowed through her. Memories of her innocent son flashed before her eyes. She felt her heartbeat weakening, her focus was blurred, mind dizzy with visions fluctuating between the past and present. She wasn’t sure if this was death coming to take her, or if she was losing her mind. Either way, she feared it. She feared for her son, and for her husband's life - feared what would happen to her if she did indeed survive. Could she live a life of insanity? Could she live with the fact that they had chosen to leave their son in order to protect Dumbledore’s secrets? If she had been asked this before, sure she would have declared her support for the Order and promised to give up everything for the cause. Now that it was happening, she wasn’t certain this was what she had signed up for._

_Alice’s eyes levelled with her husband’s as her fear mounted. Could he see what she was trying to tell him? Was he feeling the same? Did he understand at all?_

_Frank Longbottom feared for his wife as his own torture continued. He was currently receiving the brunt of curses from Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and Bartemius Crouch, Jr. His eyes met with his wife’s and he saw unparalleled fear. Fear and heartbreak and pain. He felt helpless and pathetic, that he, a man from the House of Gryffindor, a courageous Auror, a Longbottom - was unable to stop this. His family was about to be torn apart, destroyed by curses, and for what - a noble sacrifice for a Wizard who was nowhere to be seen and not able to help? The thought made his anger rise in a blaze of fury. The Order was supposed to be a team, a support system. Yet, here they were, ‘taking one for the team’, and the team in question had failed them. The Order had failed his family, and if he and his wife were to truly escape the madness, he could only do one thing. He had to surrender._

_“Give me a turn, Barty. You’ve had your fun, stand down!” demands Rodolphus._

_“You’re dreaming, Roddy. I’m having way too much fun! Take what you can get of him before he’s twisted. They’re no fun once they’re crazy….minds go to mush, they do,” Crouch, Jr. exclaimed with a twisted smirk._

_Bellatrix could be heard humming psychotically in the background as their torture continued. The weight of his woes mounted with the pressure. Frank had been holding on for dear life, but his wife was fading fast. He thought of their son, Neville - he was just a baby. An innocent little baby who needed his parents. What good would they be to him to live life unrecognisable, all of their precious memories destroyed? It couldn’t happen. He refused. He believed in the Order; he trusted Dumbledore. Still, he had to question if Dumbledore would have been so heartless as to condemn his wife, his son, and himself to die, or live with incomplete minds. He used every ounce of his bravery to do what he needed to do for his family._

_“Stop! Not my wife! We have a son, please. I-I’ll tell you anything,_ anything _you want, if you make an Unbreakable Vow that no more harm will come to us, or my son. I’ll do it.”_

_Bellatrix immediately stopped torturing Alice. Frank’s request had piqued her interest._

_“Well, well, well. Mr. Longbottom knows how to play. Rodolphus, surrender your arm.”_

_“What? Why me?”_

_“Because you are my husband, and you’ll do what I say, that's why.”_

_“Bu-”_

_“Do it, or I’ll make you, Husband,” she threatened. Bellatrix’s tone chilled Rodolphus to the bone. He wasn’t one to mess with his wife. He could take on anyone else - no big deal. But her, well, he had to live with her. Grudgingly, he submitted to her demand._

_Rodolphus raised his arm, letting a dramatic huff escaped his lips. Frank, however, was not in good shape, and was unable to stand to participate in the Vow. Bellatrix commanded Rabastan and Crouch, Jr. to pick him up and hold him in place long enough to perform the Unbreakable Vow. Once the deed was complete, Frank spilled all of the Order’s secrets. They were left to return to their home, and no harm could come to them or their son. They would be protected by the Unbreakable Vow for as long as Rodolphus lived._

 

* * *

Neville’s time at Hogwarts had been far from exciting. While most children spent their school years trying to live up to the expectations of their parents, he had spent the past seven years trying to prove that he was better than his parents; that he was a _noble_ and _chivalrous_ Gryffindor, that he truly _belonged_ in his house. He’d been haunted by his parents past, every year finding himself judged for the decisions they had made the night they spilled important Order secrets to save themselves. He often wondered it if was terrible of him to wish that they had been tortured to insanity or killed - so that things turned out differently. The other students had constantly accused him of being sorted into Gryffindor by default, not because he belonged there. He loved his parents. He loved his house. Unfortunately, pride in both his family and his house was something he lacked as the years went on. All he’d felt was inadequate. All he wanted to do was disappear.

That was, until his fifth year when he found himself in a secret organisation led by Harry Potter: “Dumbledore’s Army.” It was there that he found his place and formed true friendships, and he started to find confidence within himself. It was then that he took an unexpected fancy to a pretty, inquisitive Ravenclaw.

Dumbledore’s Army was his outlet; his chance to prove that he was trustworthy, and capable of being brave, capable of sacrifice, and able to be a loyal friend. The value of true friendship and pride was what he’d worked to developed those years, so he could feel better about himself. His goal was to reinvent his family name, and restore the dishonour they’d brought upon themselves. He wanted to start a new legacy and show everyone ‘it matters not what someone is _born_ , but what they grow to _be_.’

 

* * *

 

On that particular day of his seventh year, the Wizarding World they once knew no longer existed. Since the death of Dumbledore and the resurrection of Voldemort, the school had been overrun with Death Eaters, run namely by the one who killed their headmaster, Severus Snape. It was Snape that now stood in his place as Headmaster. His lackeys, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, assisted in classes, but mainly enjoyed punishing students. Neville had been leading the resistance since Harry, Ron, and Hermione went on the run, and doing his best to protect students, standing up for those with no voice. How was he to know that his friendship with another member of the D.A. with the intense, curiously puzzling, dirty-haired blonde, Luna Lovegood, was going to develop into strong feelings of admiration and lust. He had no way of knowing that she would be the one to make him see that he was worthy of being a Gryffindor, giving him the motivation he needed to see through even the most dangerous of tasks.

 

* * *

 

It was a crazy idea to break into Snape’s office in an attempt to steal the Sword of Gryffindor; one that led him to many regrets.

This particular afternoon, Snape was away on official Death Eater business. The plan was flawed, but they hadn’t a choice, they had to seize the day. It had been Ginny’s idea to steal the Sword of Gryffindor, and Luna insisted on helping. As the three of them had sort of become the leaders of the rebellion in the Golden Trio’s absence, he refused to let the two witches go it alone. After convincing them to let him help, they snuck through Hogwarts to the Gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office. The password wasn’t hard to figure out, “cockroach clusters” were Snape’s favourite. The door opened and they edged forward with a sense of urgency. In their haste they stumbled, bumping into one another, Neville collided with Luna causing him to then trod on Ginny.

“Ouch, Neville you stepped on my foot!” she shouted, as she hopped on one foot, grabbing the other injured one with both hands.

“Sorry Ginny! I-I didn’t mean too - this staircase is tiny. Quickly, we have to get in and get out of here.”

They reached the top of the stairs, entered the Headmaster’s office, and located the sword almost immediately. They weren’t, however, prepared for the fireplace to ignite and for Snape to stumble out of the floo, catching them.

“What do you think you are doing here?” drawled Snape through gritted teeth. His face was full of arrogance at the intrusion. They knew it. He knew it. They were in deep shit.

The momentary silence of the room was interrupted by the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.

“Oh my, Severus, look at the disobedient students you have here. They’ll need a decent punishment for this. Breaking into the Headmaster’s office and trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. Aren’t they the friends of the half-blood traitor, Potter?”

“Enough!” shouted Snape, and with a flick of his wrist, the black curtain snapped shut over the portrait.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Severus. I can still hear you,” retorted Phineus mockingly.

“ _Silencio,”_ demanded Snape. Now, I won’t ask again. What were you doing attempting to steal the Sword of Gryffindor? Planning on taking it to Potter, were you? Know where he’s hiding, eh? I’d think very carefully about how you chose to answer my questions.”

“No, _sir._ I swear we don’t know where he is, or any of them for that matter.” Pleaded Neville.

“I find that hard to believe considering Weasley’s sister is here with you. Something you’re not telling me Miss Weasley?”

“I’ve nothing to say, Professor.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, sir. In fact, you know more than my family do on their whereabouts.”

“That’s unfortunate. I happen to know the Carrow’s have a little _detention_ session going on in a classroom on the fifth floor. I’ll escort you there immediately, you can receive punishment for your indiscretions. No talking is required.”

“But sir, it was my idea. Ginny and Luna had nothing to do with it. I’ll take their punishment; just let them go!” pleaded Neville. He wasn’t a smooth talker, and was hardly what one would call convincing, but he tried anyway. The last thing he wanted was to be haunted by not only the ghosts of his past, but the torturous screams of his friends, and more importantly, a girl that he was more than sure he loved.

“How unlike your parents, Mr. Longbottom. So very _noble_ of you. Unfortunately for you, Weasley and Lovegood are equally guilty, therefore they must receive the equivalent in punishment. Now, follow me.”

Snape led the way down the Headmaster’s staircase, out past the Gargoyle, and through the corridor. When they arrived at the classroom detention was being held in, they were shocked to see the number of students being detained.

Amycus was delighted more students had arrived.

“Mmm, fresh victims, and two girls at that! Oh, goody! E’llo lovely,” he said to Ginny with a wink. “I think you just made it to the top of my list.” He licked his lips, and sneered lecherously at her.

Ginny glared at him, trying to suppress the eye roll that she so desperately wanted to aim at him. Snape exited as quickly as he’d arrived, practically dumping them at the hands of the Death Eaters. Deep down Ginny feared what kind of punishment she was really in for, discomforted by the way his eyes looked her up and down. She felt naked, as though he was undressing her. She regretted feeling relieved when he approached her, only to move on and take a particular liking to Luna as she was revealed standing behind her.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Blondes first.”

She glared as he reached forward to grab hold of Luna.

“No!” screamed Ginny. In an act of defiance, she balled her fist, swinging it at him, somehow managing to connect with his face.

“You little bitch! You’ll pay for that one as soon as I'm finished with _her,_ ” he shrieked, pointing his wand at Luna, binding her in ropes.

Neville didn’t really know what was happening at that moment. He thought this was just about torture. Not saying that torture wasn’t a bad thing, but he was only expecting they be cursed. Although the truth was never revealed to him, he couldn’t help the thought of it being something far more sinister. He couldn’t deny the screams that haunted his mind and the visions that scarred him on that particular day.

He watched helplessly as Luna was dragged off into the classroom next door, he and Ginny still incarcerated.

The next time he saw her, she wasn’t the same. Her spirit was broken, shattered beyond repair. She had the same look in her eyes that she’d had the day she was dragged off the Hogwarts Express by Death Eaters on their way home for Christmas. For months he was filled with dread; he didn’t know how to go on. He blamed himself for the most part, he even blamed Ginny. He only found comfort in the fact that, although little, they had contact via the D.A. coins Hermione had crafted for them in fifth year. The moments they exchanged a message or two were rare because of Luna’s imprisonment and budding friendship with Dean Thomas, but all Neville needed was to read her kind words when they came, and it gave him hope. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like for her being locked in a dungeon at Malfoy Manor. He often had peculiar feelings about her developing friendship with Dean, but at least she had someone to protect her, because he very well couldn’t.

He was grateful to hear when she was rescued by Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He didn’t know the details, except that Dobby was a casualty, and she was safe in a place ‘where the wind howled and the sand felt good between her toes.’ He’d honestly lost count of the months she’d been gone, but the ache in his chest had gotten worse in that time, and his heart pounded a little faster when her heard her name in passing conversation.

 

* * *

 

As the danger at Hogwarts intensified, and whispers that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were returning with a war on their shoulders, he knew that someone here had to do something. He had to protect the students - they needed a sanctuary. He needed to prepare the ones who could fight a war, because a war was indeed coming. More importantly, he needed hope and a distraction from the ache he felt in his heart. It was then that he made a promise to himself: if he ever laid eyes on Luna again, he’d confess how felt, not taking no for an answer. To hell with it, he wouldn’t ask her anything, he’ll just blatantly walk up to her and kiss her, if he had the balls to do it.

Neville gathered the remaining members of Dumbledore’s Army and set to work. If the rumours were true, Harry was coming tonight and there was something to do with Ravenclaw. If there was any truth to it, they needed to be ready.

 

* * *

 

The moment lightning struck was all too surreal. Neville found himself opening the portrait in The Hogs Head, discovering Harry, Ron, and Hermione with Aberforth. He was elated to see them all, though they looked on the thin side; they’d definitely been living rough. Having just broken into Gringotts and successfully escaped in one piece, releasing a dragon into the wild while they were at it, they each seemed more concerned about Neville’s facial injuries and fresh scars rather than their own. It was nothing compared to whatever hell they’d been through, he knew that. He simply did what he had to do until it was no longer safe to be antagonising Death Eaters. When they couldn't find him, a group of them had gone after his gran in an attempt to lure him to them. Grossly underestimating the elderly witch, they had all ended up in St Mungo's, then escaped into hiding… While on the run, he’d received an owl from her stating that she was proud of him, and that he’d restored the honour to the Longbottom name.

 

* * *

 

Upon returning to Hogwarts, entering through the Room of Requirement, they were greeted by an explosion of hoots and cheers, everyone trying to shake their hands or smack the backs of their shoulders to show appreciation to the Golden Trio. Morale was at a newfound high.   
  
Neville had rehearsed how he would shower her with displays of love and affection the next time he saw her. As she emerged from the secret passageway with Dean close behind her, Neville’s confidence diminished. With his courage coming to a halt, she turned toward Dean, leaving Neville’s bravery burnt by her flames.   
  
Leaning into Dean, Luna appeared to whisper something in the boy's ear - his face falling slightly, leaving Neville to wonder what she said to make him react with such disappointment. Her gaze returned to Neville, eyes lit with unanswered questions, her disposition laced with unspoken truths.   
  
Filled with joy and relief upon seeing him, she began to move, weaving through people, keeping her eyes on him. Was she coming to him? The twinkle in her eyes and the upward curl of her lips suggested so. He realised that maybe he had been so afraid of her rejecting him, that he’d overlooked how she felt. Maybe she did reciprocate his feelings after all. He dared not get his hopes up, but it was there; a glimmer that became a roaring fire in his chest as she looked into his eyes. Suddenly, he was feeling whole again. Whether the rise and fall of her chest signalled over exertion or her excitement to see him, he couldn't help but fantasise, hoping it was him taking her breath away.   
  
A full conversation took place between them in that moment, revealing all to each other without having to say a single word. A girl has never beamed so warmly in admiration of him. As they tried to close the gap between them, people continuously pulled them aside to offer hugs, handshakes, and slaps on the back in appreciation. They responded appropriately to each person, but barely heard what was said - their goal only to get to each other to tell the other, no - show the other how they felt.   
  
He was mere metres away from her, could almost touch her fingers if they outstretched their arms, when Harry rushed between them. He could tell that whatever Harry said to her was important, as a flicker of disappointment and sorrow washed over her beautiful face, and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He paused, realising that confessing his love for her would have to wait. She needed to go with Harry.   
  
He understood all too well the sacrifices people had to make for the greater good. Hell, he was a victim of it himself, but he was only just now realising it. Harry’s parents had died for him. They sacrificed themselves for love. Neville’s parents may not have been considered noble, because they sacrificed their honor for love; to protect him, to save their family, and give him a better chance at living life. But he now understood the core principles of their sacrifice.   
  
Watching Luna, her fingers curled purposely around Harry’s hand, she ran, pulling him in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower. Neville realised he no longer felt the weight of the pressures he'd carried around all his life. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. He had a reason to have hope, to believe - he was determined to prevail and more importantly, he thrived on the notion of Luna reciprocating his love. After all, anyone doing anything in the name of love is capable of doing great things. All he had to do was look back on history to see that.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere between Harry’s arrival, Mcgonagall fending off Snape and taking back the school, the Order members arriving, students preparing to fight and some being led to safety, _The Battle of Hogwarts_ had begun and was every bit as intense as they’d predicted. The air was heavy, laced with so much Dark Magic it didn’t feel safe to breathe in the thick of it - he feared they’d be poisoned by the necessity to breathe. Mostly, he felt choked up, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to the oxygen his brain was lacking, or the chaos and death of his peers clouding him. He was surrounded by bruised and bloodied bodies of the innocent, some were buried under the rubble of their once great school. There was a constricting, black layer of smog lingering from explosions and duels.

Everything seemed eerily silent to him, though he’d come to realise he was merely blocking out the cries for help and the screams of people in mourning. He tried to help using his bare hands to recover bodies of the dead, attempting to help anyone who could possibly be alive along the way. His eyes fell upon the Weasleys, shaking with grief at the discovery of Fred’s lifeless body. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest seeing a family of brave witches and wizards that came here together, fought together as a unit, but would be returning home minus one of their own. He'll never have that. What the Weasleys have, or what Harry had.

He was ashamed of his parents, but in the crossfire it occurred to him that people do things for love. Acts of love can cause you to do strange, nonsensical things, and that acts of love can be foolish, as well as kind. Acts of love can mean making a choice, when choosing to survive and being painted a coward for it rather than giving up your life, family, or your sanity, because you value it more than your hero status. That in itself is the definition of being noble. Those are traits worthy of heroes. If the worst thing his parents had ever done was sacrifice their good standing with the Wizarding World to save their family, then he believed that he could forgive them. Never in a million years had he ever imagined that redemption and forgiveness were something he needed to learn, but it was. Just he had learned to understand the true value of friendship and love.

 

* * *

 

Neville was surrounded by so much destruction that he had almost forgotten that he had a reason to go on. He searched for her amid the rubble, praying he wouldn’t find her there. He walked up and down the rows of injured in the Great Hall, while crimson liquid dribbled from his own head injury. He began to limp upon the realisation his leg was hurting to walk if he tried to do so normally. The rest of the war was a blur to him, up to the point where he found himself in a standoff against Voldemort, the crowd  silenced by their shock at his courage in the face of the scene unfolding. They thought Harry was dead. Neville thought he was gone, and he was hellbent on defending his friend’s honour. If no one else was going to try, he would. Harry deserved that much.

Bellatrix was making some snide comment to Voldemort regarding Neville’s parents when suddenly, Voldemort had offered him a position amongst his ranks.

“Pureblood and brave, my boy. So unlike your cowardice parents. You don’t come of noble stock, but you show spirit and bravery. You would make a valuable Death Eater, Neville Longbottom. We need your kind.”

“You’re aware I lack certain family traits and I’m a Gryffindor, and as such have a blatant disregard for rules. If your mindless drones couldn’t contain me, what makes you think _you_ can? I’ll join you when Hell freezes over! Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, the crowd erupting into cheers of encouragement and unity.

“Very well, stupid boy,” hissed Voldemort through clenched teeth, the silkiness of his voice warned of danger.

Voldemort flicked his wand.

Several seconds passed before a bird-like object flew from a broken window of the castle. A swish of Voldemort’s wand sent it straight for Neville. As the misshapen object neared, he finally realised it as the Sorting Hat. Upon reaching him, the Hat he recognised from his first year was forced onto his head, and he gulped as his fear started making an appearance. He didn’t let it overwhelm his senses, but the silence in the crowd unnerved him. They stood, waiting for something to happen, knowing that Voldemort intended to punish him for his attempt to humiliate him. No one can oppose Lord Voldemort.

Another wave of Voldemort’s wand set the Sorting Hat alight, it’s flames burning what small amount of hair he still had. Neville screamed in frozen agony, unable to move due to the body bind, but able to feel his skin melting away. The blaze was worse than anything he’d ever felt. A quick flash of movement had him doing a double-take. Neville was as shocked as everyone else when Harry leapt to life, causing enough of a distraction for the chaos to erupt around them again. Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle yelling “HAGGER.” The giants supporting Voldemort answered his cries, heading straight for him, but not out of the kindness of their hearts. They were surrounded by the sound of hooves heavily thudding toward Death Eaters, aiming their bows and arrows toward all who stood alongside him. As Harry disappeared under the cloak, Hell broke loose. With all the strength he could muster, Neville broke free of the body bind securing him to the hat. Feeling threatened by its flames, he summoned enough magic to free himself, releasing him from the clutches of the now charred sorting hat. Reaching to remove it, he was unaware of the hats contents but his curiosity got the best of him, when his eyes caught the reflection of a glittering, silver object with an encrusted ruby handle.

Nagini was approaching Neville in a slithering, hissing blur of speed, the crowd was cheering as flashes of light emitted from Harry and Voldemort’s wands and the fight escalated. Neville was full of sheer determination as he heard a voice in his head he couldn't ignore, “kill the snake!” He looked to his right and caught the familiar eyes of his beloved. Never before in his life had he felt so courageous and worthy of being a Gryffindor. He owed it to her for teaching him to believe in himself. Her owed her his confidence...if it had not been for her, he wouldn't have stepped outside his shell and made a conscious effort to apply himself. Without her he wouldn't have learned to forgive his parents, for she showed no malice towards Amycus Carrow, and when she’d had an opportunity for vengeance, she had left it to the fates to decide.

Everything echoed in his mind on repeat.

His heart was pounding so wildly in his chest, each beat of the muscular organ was like a knocking on the door of a prison cell. Inside his caged ribs begged the heart of a lion, desperate to be exposed.

It was real. Neville had just pulled from the Sorting Hat, The Sword of Godric Gryffindor. The blade of the sword gleamed in the moonlight as he lifted his arms, swinging down in one fell swoop as Nagini aimed to strike him. The great snake’s head spun through the air, landing on the floor with a loud thump. Neville felt as though every eye was focused on him as a tormented scream sounded, echoing through Voldemort. Neville’s hands shook with the raw force of what he’d done. Nagini, Voldemort’s beloved snake was dead - because of him. He felt the weight of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor in his hand, the powerful magic vibrating through every fibre of his being. It felt light as a feather. He felt like he could spit fire.

Peering at the blade in front of him, it shimmered with the blood of Voldemort’s pet. Nagini’s head had been sliced clean from her body, killing her instantly. As her life ended, Harry finished Voldemort's after winning the loyalty of the Elder wand, giving him the power to truly defeat the darkest wizard of all time, once and for all.

 

* * *

 

Once the smoke had cleared, the air became easier to breathe. The Wizarding World had been saved, and the only worry left in Neville's mind was finding Luna. He felt a light tap on his shoulder, turning around to discover her periwinkle eyes before him. Still holding the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand, he wished for just a bit more of the courage he'd used to kill the snake but it was gone. His heart skipped a beat as he suddenly found it hard to breathe again.

He stuttered trying to say the words.

“L-Luna, I -”

Luna smiled warmly at him, the twinkle in her eyes could charm even the Dementors. A light peach blush tinted her cheeks as she licked her lips. Without warning she kissed him on the cheek. Her gesture took him by surprise, making him feel all giddy inside, and rendered him speechless.

“I know, Neville,” she chimed happily. “I've known all along. And yes, I do, too,” she said with a definitive smirk. He still didn't know where his courage had gone, but the lion in his chest was purring.

Without a word he took her hand in his, and they strolled through the rubble across the grounds to find some quiet. If Neville could have predicted things turning out this way, his Hogwarts experience would have changed dramatically from the start. He had no regrets, however, because this journey has shaped who he became. For that, he was grateful. Life would certainly be more interesting now. With his past behind him, his future has never looked so bright.

  
  
  



End file.
